Dréor Hagorún – The Blood Spell
by syfygal
Summary: You know who Emrys is; he has been with you for many years, practicing sorcery under the King's very nose. He is known in the Prophecies as the protector of the Once and Future King. He is known to me and my kin as Emrys, the most powerful Warlock to ever have lived. He was known to the king as a lowly serving boy and he is known to you as...
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **

This is my first Merlin fan fiction, so please have a little patience if I get something wrong or if the characters are too OOC. As always, constructive criticism is welcome, but flamers will be eaten by dragons. Sure, people are entitled to their own opinions, however, it is much more polite to stop reading the story instead of opting to offend and hurt. It is a waste of everyone's time!

That is all :p

_Set Season 4, slightly AU - After Uther's death. May be reveal_

_**DISCLAIMER:**_

**As you possibly would have already guessed, I do not own Merlin – and I also can't guarantee that our boys will be returned unharmed. I like whump. Apparently we all do. **

_Warnings:_

As specified in the disclaimer, there _will _be whump, and it _may _get quite descriptive. (e.g. Torture)

**Contains:** Evil! Morgana, Evil! Mordred, Sick/Hurt! Merlin Worried! Arthur & Knights.

Features Arthur/Merlin bromance, but contains **NO** slash. Between **ANYONE**

* * *

**Dréor Hagorún – The Blood Spell**

**PROLOGUE**

Even within her slumber, she could see. There was always…_something._ Morgana could still remember the days when these visions actually bothered her, when they sent her flying into consciousness with a scream upon her lips, a sheen of cold sweat coating her face as her maidservant – the traitorous bitch – soothed her fears. She recalled the foul tasting tonics that Gaius concocted to dispel the nightmares that weren't really dreams.

Those were the days she felt trapped, like she would never truly be alive…and then Morgause came and liberated her soul. After that, there was no turning back. No running back to apologise and beg forgiveness. It was time for magic to return to Albion, but not with Arthur at the throne.

This dark night, Morgana found herself wandering through the abandoned Druid camp she once came to for answers. A gentle breeze teased the lengths of her dark, tattered hair bringing with it a whispered call.

'_Morgana…'_

At one time in her life, a cold fear would have clutched her heart as the voice floated through her consciousness, but now she welcomed it. Her green lidded eyes searched the trees surrounding her, seeking the owner of the words.

'_Morgana…' _

Wide blue eyes flashed behind her own, the stormy depths, once innocent and full of primal fear, now held wisdom and truth beyond any age.

'_Mordred, I hear you!' _she responded through the telepathic link that bound them so closely together.

The young boy was close by, she could feel his presence, but Morgana knew he would not come forth, and for now she was content to hear his voice echo through her mind.

'_I grow weak, Morgana…yet there is still much to be done. I am but a child, and I've not the strength to will the future I have seen come to pass, you must help me…'_

The words sent a cold shiver down her spine as the words faded in and out.

'_Mordred, what must I do?' _She asked, wrapping her arms around herself to keep the chill of fear away. She needed the boy. Her sister was dead, and if he too, were to die, then she would truly be alone.

'_I require a power transferal…a dangerous ritual that requires the victims consent before the magic can be set free…__Dréor Hagorún…It is called The Blood Spell,'_

Morgana bit her lip, but she wasn't afraid. She knew what was expected of her.

'_I willingly consent to this ritual,' _she replied, her eyes flashing gold.

A quiet chuckle reached her ears, the warm laughter bringing a smile to her lips.

'_No, Morgana…you are needed, for without you, magic cannot return to Camelot. It will not be you. I have already chosen my vessel, but I will need your assistance and cooperation for this to work. You __**must **__find Emrys, Morgana. _

She froze and the smile dropped from her delicate features. The name alone, brought true fear to her heart, and she almost could not bear to hear it.

'_E-Emrys? Why him, Mordred…you know that-'_

'_That he is your doom? Yes, but not this day Morgana, and perhaps never, if the ritual is successful. He is the only one who has the power I require to regain my strength.' _

Morgana bit her lip, drawing a drop of crimson blood as she chewed nervously.

'_How can we use him? I do not even know his true identity, although I have come close to finding out…'_

Another deliciously joyous chuckle echoed around her as she began to pace through the abandoned campsite.

'_It's a good thing I know who he is then, isn't it?'_

The former ward and daughter of Uther Pendragon stopped short, her green eyes flashing anger.

'_How long __**have**__ you known of this Mordred?' _she demanded, rage boiling from the depth of her black soul.

'_I have known always, Morgana, however only now has ever been the time to divulge that secret to you. You know who Emrys is; he has been with you for many years, practicing sorcery under the King's very nose. He is known in the Prophecies as the protector of the Once and Future King. He is known to me and my kin as Emrys, the most powerful Warlock ever to have lived. He was known to the king as a lowly serving boy and he is known to you as-' _

'Merlin,' she hissed contemptuously her eyes smouldering. It finally clicked. The scrawny servant boy had been a thorn in her side ever since he attempted to kill her with poison. Always at the wrong place at the right time…Morgana felt herself flush, the tips of her ears growing hot. This boy was the great and powerful Emrys? _Merlin? _A bumbling and incompetent child, who barely had the strength to lift a sword, was the source of her fear?

She felt embarrassed. _Ashamed_ – that she allowed the fear of his true name to paralyse her.

'_He will not come willingly, Mordred…nor will he volunteer his gift, you know this,' _Morgana pointed out, still taken aback at the new revelation.

'_Yes, that is known, lady – but you must convince him, through Arthur if necessary. You must find a way to get him to the Valley of the Fallen Kings by midnight in three days. I will be waiting at the old castle ruins. He must be broken before Beltane, if the ritual is to be effective. I do not care how it is done, Morgana, how many bones of his you break or how many Knights you kill – Emrys must be brought to me. Now awaken…you have a visitor….'_

* * *

Morgana's moss-green eyes flew open, as the young boys voice faded from her mind. But she didn't forget his words. She never forgot anything.

The young sorceress slowly rose to sit, her gaze falling upon a figure in the darkness.

'Come Agravaine, what have I told you about skulking in the shadows?' Morgana inquired, rising from her bed.

The man, draped in black, stepped into the beam of moonlight that sliced its way through the curtains, and bowed.

'My Lady, I did not wish to disturb you – It seemed as though you were having a peaceful dream,' the man responded smoothly, and although he smiled, his eyes showed little humour.

Morgana scoffed. "You know I no longer dream, Agravaine – everything I see when I close my eyes is a message, an enlightening or a glimpse of what is yet to happen…and tonight, Emrys was finally revealed to me!'

The Lord Agravaine frowned. 'My Lady Morgana, you no longer fear the utterance of his name!'

Morgana gave him a smile that sent shivers up the man's spine as she moved to scrutinize every one of her bottled herbs.

'_No,_ I do not. I was shown what I would be up against, and a rabbit wouldn't cower to the likes of him,'

Her eyes settled onto a small black bottle, almost completely concealed by a swathe of web, and she reached her once delicate fingers to clasp it.

'He has been known this entire time, Agravaine. So close, I could have killed him a hundred times...'

Agravaine raised his eyebrows, curious, though he remained still.

'The young druid boy...he told you?' He enquired as she held the small bottle close to her heart as though it was something precious.

Morgana nodded sharply. 'The all powerful _Emrys _is nothing but a mere serving boy, Agravaine. Arthur's bootlicker,'

The Lord's eyes grew wide with understanding.

'Surely you don't mean...'

'_Yes..._Merlin,' she spat vehemently. 'But he will not be a problem for much longer...he is needed if Mordred is to survive,'

Agravaine smirked. 'Oh? I take it you have something special planned?'

The young woman nodded slowly, a smile creeping across her lips. 'Tell me, _my Lord, _have you ever heard of the Strychnine Tree? They grow sparsely in these woods but are in abundance within the Valley of the Fallen Kings...the tree itself is no more dangerous than any other tree, however its seeds...'

Intrigued, Agravaine shook his head. 'I cannot say I have heard of such a tree,' He admitted.

'No? Perhaps you know it by its other name..._Nux Vomica,_' She handed the small bottle to Agravaine, whose eyes had widened in recognition of the name.

'My Lady?'

'Dose his food with this Agravaine, and be sure that only he is poisoned. You may leave in a moment...I have a letter to write to my _brother_,'

Agravaine nodded as he slipped the bottle into his travelling cloak. As he watched Morgana begin to scribe upon a piece of dirty parchment, he thought of Merlin and how much agony the next few days would bring him.

He almost felt sympathy for the boy...

_Almost._

* * *

**Well there you have it! I hope you enjoyed it. Please feel free to leave a review! They will be much appreciated!**

**I may have the next chapter up tonight, but I am not making any promises. I will try my hardest though...I'm on a roll!**


	2. Chapter 1

_**DISCLAIMER:**_

**As you possibly would have already guessed, I do not own Merlin – and I also can't guarantee that our boys will be returned unharmed. I like whump. Apparently we all do. **

_Warnings:_

As specified in the disclaimer, there _will _be whump, and it _may _get quite descriptive.

**Contains:** Evil! Morgana, Evil! Mordred, Sick/Hurt! Merlin Worried! Arthur & Knights.

Features Arthur/Merlin bromance, but contains **NO** slash. Between **ANYONE**

* * *

**Dréor Hagorún – The Blood Spell**

**CHAPTER ONE**

'Wake up, you royal arse,' Merlin called cheerily as he pulled the deep red curtains aside, filling the dark stone chamber with bright sunshine.

Arthur moaned grumpily and rolled fitfully onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow to evade the offending light.

'You do remember that I am the king, right, _Mer_lin?' he enquired, his muffled tone enunciating the first syllable of his servants name quite clearly, as he usually did when the disrespectful, bumbling idiot aggravated him.

'I do sire, that is why I addressed you as a _royal _arse,' the young warlock replied as he began to ready the Kings clothes for the day.

Arthur sat up, looking very much like an angry porcupine as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Merlin noted the King's dishevelled blonde mop and sniggered, barely avoiding the first airborne attack of the day.

'I will put you in the stocks for a week, you _idiot_,' Arthur warned, reaching for his breakfast tray and grasping a chunk of freshly baked bread.

'I'd like to see you try it Your Prattiness. Sir Gwaine would steal your keys and release me without a moment's hesitation if you did.'

Arthur rolled his bleary eyes, not doubting for a second that it was true. The man had had taken a shine to the boy, in the most annoying sense.

Knights of Camelot were supposed to be loyal and respect their King, but oh no. He had to go and officially knight the biggest rag-tag bunch of traitorous fiends humanly possible to serve at his side - the kind that called him princess and ruffled his hair when he got cranky. Despite behaviour his father would have executed over, Arthur had come to admit a growing fondness that his knights, who served well and fought hard, treated him as they would a great friend - as Merlin treated him.

The new King was snapped out of his reverie by a spindly, long fingered hand waving and clicking in his field of vision.

'Earth to Prat, I asked you a question,' Merlin stated, knocking Arthur gently on the head with a balled fist,

'Gods Merlin, what _is _it? Maybe I was just purposely ignoring your inane prattling, did that occur to you?' Arthur snapped.

'Not once sire, your food is still hovering by your mouth and you were dribbling like a fool,' the servant said with a shrug, holding out a different tunic in each hand. 'Which one, red or blue?'

'Neither, and don't change the subject. Find my black one,' Arthur responded, chewing the bread.

'Your black one is ripped, and I wasn't changing the subject, you looked like a clotpole, so the subject was closed anyway. No point in blathering when there are things to do,' Merlin shot back, throwing the red tunic in his king's face.

'My thoughts exactly, Merlin – you _do _have quite a bit to do today. You can start by polishing my armour before training. Now get out so I can eat in peace.' Arthur said, dismissing his servant.

'But who will dress ye sire?' Merlin replied mockingly, dodging the second projectile.

'Get out _Mer_lin,'

The young man grinned as he backed from the room, but it fell from his face as soon as the heavy doors slammed shut. With a shaky sigh, Merlin rested his head against the stone, clutching his roiling stomach. He rested for only a second, before heading towards the Armoury.

* * *

As his door closed with a resounding thud, Arthur pulled his meal towards him, ready to devour it before dressing, but something caught his eye.

Tucked beneath the plate that held his food, was a small folded piece of yellowing paper, his name written in tiny, spidery letters on the front.

Carefully, so as not to rip the delicate note, he unfolded it and as his blue eyes flicked over the first line, a lump of dread formed in the pit of his stomach.

**_Dearest Brother, _**

**_I suppose you wonder now why I am bothering to write to you in secrecy. I can sense the dread emanating from you as you read and I revel in it. _**

**_This is a mere warning, Arthur, be glad you are even receiving this morsel. _**

**_I have a few that are still loyal to me in Camelot – and before you even bother looking – know now that they are well hidden and will not be found. They tell me of your attachment to the serving boy, Merlin. _**

**_Now read the next words carefully, for you do not have much time to save him. _**

**_Merlin has been poisoned; unknowingly he has consumed the seeds of the plant Nux Vomica. I know you have no idea as to that particular plant – you were never one for listening in lessons. He should already be starting to feel the effects and wherever he is, it will not be pleasant. Take this letter to Gaius – he will prepare you for what you will find. Waste no time Arthur. If you want Merlin to live, bring him to the Valley of the Fallen Kings by no later than noon, two days from now and I will provide him with the antidote. You may be asking yourself why I am doing this, but for now it is a secret. You bring him or your bootlicking servant will suffer in the most horrible way. Two days Arthur...RUN_**

Clutching the note in his shaking hands, he pushed his meal away and sprung into action. He crashed through the door and ran down the corridor, barrelling headlong into Gwaine.

'Whoa there Princess, what are you running from?' He asked with a lopsided smirk.

'Shut up Gwaine, and get out of my way!' Arthur growled.

The young knight frowned. 'Sire?' he asked with unusual politeness and genuine concern.

'Gwaine! Merlin had been _poisoned_! I must get to Gaius and we have to find him! Before it's too late!'

Fear and panic flashed within Gwaine's dark eyes and he nodded, racing after Arthur towards the Physicians chambers.

They crashed through the doors of Gaius's chambers with alarming speed; startling the old man, who jumped, sending the glass vial he was holding, shattering upon the stones.

'Sire, what is it my boy?' Gaius implored, his eyebrows beetling into a concerned frown.

Breathing heavily from exertion and panic, the Prince thrust the letter to Gaius with trembling hands. As the old man read, his eyes grew wide.

'Gods above!' he cried. 'Where is he Arthur? It is imperative that we find him!'

'What is this plant Gaius?' Arthur demanded, noting his panicked tone

A tear slid down the old man's face.

'Nux Vomica, sire, this plant...will be his death.'

His words hit Arthur like a hammer to the gut. No further words were exchanged as Gaius looked away, utterly broken.

Arthur knew where he was, for he had ordered him there himself. He glanced at Gwaine, and together they headed for the armoury.

* * *

Merlin gripped the ragged polishing cloth in his hand as waves of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He had started to feel a little ill after his meal in the morning, but he had put it down to bad grain and moved on. However, as the morning began to wane, he had started to feel heavy and very tired, but still he continued, despite the sheen of sweat that dampened his brow, the boy had begun to polish the King's armour as ordered.

He was just beginning to shine the hauberk, when he was assailed by the worst pain he had ever known, like his gut was being squeezed and twisted from the inside by unseen hands.

He gripped the bench tightly with one hand, while the other clawed at his stomach, desperate to rid himself of the agony that threatened to pull him under. Merlin let out a strangled cry, and fell to his knees gasping for breath – and he began to wail, hot tears spilling from his eyes.

* * *

As Arthur and Gwaine approached the armoury, the sounds they heard coming from within, almost stopped them in their tracks. A low, animal keening, broken by strangled sobs pierced Arthur like a knife and his resolve nearly broke. He was so afraid of what he would find behind those doors and judging by the pained look upon his Knight's face – Gwaine was too. But they had to help Merlin, so they could get him better and he could go back to being the cheeky, insolent git that Arthur admired him for.

Sharing a brief nod, the pair pushed the door open and they could never have prepared themselves for what they saw.

The usually cheerful boy was curled up in the foetal position beneath the table, his face shining with perspiration and tears. Spittle dripped from his chin and smears of grainy vomit smeared his tunic and neckerchief.

King Arthur dropped to his knees and reached for his friend as he cried out, his body jerking.

"Gwaine, help me move him, we need to get him to Gaius, _now_,' Arthur instructed, grabbing Merlin from behind the knees and pulling dragging him from beneath the table.

A scream ripped from his throat and he snatched his legs from Arthur's grip, retreating back into a ball.

'We move the table, Arthur,' Gwaine muttered lifting one side off the heavy oak bench, his eyes constantly flickering towards the ill boy.

With a huff of exertion, Arthur hefted the other side off the stones, and together they moved it across the room.

They barely had the table set upon the ground, when Arthur rushed back toward the whimpering boy, his blue eyes bright with unshed tears.

Upon his knees, Arthur placed a trembling hand against his servant's cheek, and recoiled suddenly, at the heat radiating from his pale skin.

'Oh _Merlin_, why is it always you?' he murmured quietly, turning his face towards his own, so their eyes met.

The bright blue that would've normally greeted him was reduced to a slim ring of cerulean that encompassed pupils dilated so far, his eyes appeared black.

'Ar..tur,' Merlin wheezed, gripping the Kings tunic and fisting the rough material in his hands. Gwaine crouched behind the boy and began to lift him gently, but stopped when he cried out in protest.

An overwhelming dizziness magnified the severe nausea he was already feeling and he barely managed to mumble a warning before he was violently sick upon Gwaine.

The man didn't even flinch. There were no complaints or exclamations of disgust where heard from him as Merlin continued to retch. Gwaine just rubbed his back soothingly and allowed him to be sick. 'That's it mate, get it all out,' he muttered, his eyes meeting Arthur's worried gaze.

The young warlock took a wheezing breath and turned to the King, gripping his wrist tightly. With his free hand he pulled a knife from his sleeve and slapped it gently into Arthur's hand.

'Merlin, what –'

'Kill me now Arthur,' he whispered, '_please,'_

The King's eyes widened in bewilderment, and his hand clasped around the hilt of the weapon.

'Sire – ' Gwaine muttered, tensing.

'Don't be stupid Merlin, I'm not going to kill you,' he replied, tossing it aside.

As it clattered upon the stone, Merlin screamed.

'It hurts Arthur! If you cared, you would do it,' he cried desperately.

The king gripped his shoulder. 'It is _because _I care, that I refuse,' Arthur replied gently. 'Now, we _must _get you to Gaius.'

He began to lift the frail manservant, and his cries became wilder and more pained. He began to beg, hot tears dripping from his chin.

'Kill me, _please_ just end it, Arthur do it –'

'I'm sorry my friend,' Gwaine muttered regrettably as his fist slammed into the boys face.

Merlin went limp and Arthur sighed with relief. 'Let's get him to Gaius.'

Gwaine nodded and held the door open as Arthur readjusted Merlin so his head was supported by his shoulder.

They needed to get him to the physician, and then they would have to leave. There was precious little time, and Arthur would waste no more.

Merlin's life depended on it.

**Thank you for your kind reviews and encouragement on the prologue! I'm hoping you all enjoy **


	3. Chapter 2

_**DISCLAIMER:**_

**Oh well you look at that...I still don't own Merlin...**

_Warnings:_

There _will _be whump, and it _may _get quite descriptive.

**Contains:** Evil! Morgana, Evil! Mordred, Sick/Hurt! Merlin Worried! Arthur & Knights.

Features Arthur/Merlin bromance, but contains **NO** slash. Between **ANYONE**

* * *

**Dréor Hagorún – The Blood Spell**

**CHAPTER TWO**

Clutching Merlin tightly against his chest, Arthur hastened towards the Physician's chambers. Upon their departure from the armoury, the King had instructed Gwaine to assemble the remaining knights and meet them back at Gaius's quarters.

With the boy trembling against him, the corridors seemed endless – stares and gasps of horror accompanying him as servants gazed upon the sickly boy, but Arthur ignored all questions. Merlin was beginning to stir, and he knew that the position he was being held in would be painful.

Arthur nearly cried out in relief as he approached the stairwell that led to the chambers, and Merlin did. He had just regained consciousness and all the pain of being moved and jostled uncomfortably by the King's gait almost overwhelmed him. The boy turned his head , leaned from Arthur's arms, and heaved. Blood –streaked vomit splattered at his feet, and he sighed.

'Couldn't soil the King's finery, now could I?' Merlin mumbled in response to Arthur's questioning gaze. The King offered him a small smile, and tried to reposition the young man in his arms, before beginning the trek upstairs. Merlin whimpered as the muscles in his gut constricted further.

'Nearly there, Merlin...nearly there,' Arthur whispered in what he hoped was a soothing manner as he climber the uneven stone stairs. Each step felt like an eternity as he began to weep from the pain. Arthur was sure some of his own tears joined Merlin's as they dripped from his chin.

'Gaius?' Arthur called, when they were close to the top of the stairwell. The chamber's wooden doors crashed open, and the old Physician appeared with a speed that belied his age.

'Oh my dear boy,' he whispered, his eyes settling upon the young man who was his ward and like a son to him. The man stepped aside as Arthur entered with the now squirming boy, and watched with curiosity as the ruler of Camelot set the boy gently upon the bed, his trembling hands brushing Merlin's forehead with such tenderness that it near broke his heart.

'What symptoms has he been displaying, sire?' Gaius enquired, dabbing the boy's cheeks with a damp cloth. Arthur took a deep shuddering breath, his eyes never leaving Merlin, who was still conscious and shivering uncontrollably.

'We found him curled up in a tight ball, clutching his gut and wailing. And he threw up on Gwaine when he tried to move his head.' Arthur relayed.

'Yes, debilitating abdominal cramps and vomiting are the first symptoms to appear. I also see his pupils consume the majority of the iris,' Gaius explained, his facade of calm slipping. He did not want to lose this boy.

Arthur nodded, taking his eyes off Merlin, only for a moment as the Knights of the Round Table burst through the door, all donning their battle armour.

'How is he?' Percival asked quietly, sadness evident in his expression.

Arthur shook his head. 'This is only going to get worse. I trust that Gwaine has apprised you of the situation?'

Sir Leon nodded. 'Yes sire, we have instructed a number of servants to gather supplies and ready the horses. They should be ready within the hour,'

Arthur then turned back to Gaius, who was busy checking Merlin's pulse and reflexes.

'Gaius, are there any pain medicines you can supply that will at least ease his discomfort?' Gwaine asked, reading Arthur's intentions as he crouched by the boy and gripped his twitching hand.

The old physician shook his head sadly. 'Regrettably not, and I warn you now, he will soon be difficult to look after. Morgana has given you two days...I fear his condition will slow your progress somewhat,'

Arthur nodded in understanding. 'We know Gaius, but we will get him there in time. We _will_ save him,'

Gaius gave Arthur and his Knights a watery smile. Never had he known such noble men, ready to fight and die for a servant. It was then that Gaius almost lost hold of his emotions. He nearly fell apart right there, but a reassuring grip upon his shoulder told him that there was always hope.

He took a deep breath and once more looked upon his ward.

Oh how he would _miss_ him, if the poor boy was to die.

* * *

As Arthur rushed around his chambers, collecting clothes and hastily shoving them into his leather pack, his uncle, Lord Agravaine stood by his door, hands clasped behind his back. He did not wait for the King to speak.

'My Lord, are you sure this is wise? Running off to that accursed valley for a mere serving boy?'

The King shot his uncle a glare, but did not respond verbally.

'What I mean, sire, is that it is far too dangerous! You could get yourself killed!'

Arthur gripped the pack tightly, his knuckles turning white.

'You know I am always grateful for your counsel, uncle, but this is not open for discussion. I will not let Merlin die. He is far too important to me,' Arthur explained, his blue eye fixing his uncle's with a pleading gaze.

Agravaine sighed. 'Majesty, he is but a servant!' he replied incredulously, his eyes wide.

'To you, he may be Agravaine, but he has saved my life on several occasions, willing to endure much pain so that I may survive. To me _and_ to my Knights, he is a loyal friend and I will not allow him to die. I have to leave, now,' Arthur said heading for the doors of his chambers. His uncle moved to stop him.

'Should you not at least wait for morning?' Agravaine pleaded, his eyes remaining emotionless. 'It will be dark soon, My Lord.'

The King shook his head. 'I have wasted too much time already. We have ridden in the dark before – this cannot wait.'

As Agravaine watched his nephew depart his chambers swiftly, a cold smile spread slowly across his sallow face.

Morgana had been right! Everything was going according to plan.

* * *

Already upon his steed, Arthur waited nervously for Gwaine to appear with the sick boy, ready to depart. After much argument on Arthur's part, the knights managed to convince him that Merlin should ride with a knight. They pointed out, that he while he was leading; navigating the route in the dark would require all of his concentration and attention, which he would not be able to give had he been nursing the boy too.

It was after he finally relented to their words, that Gwaine was the first to volunteer for this task. Arthur found himself somewhat relieved that the knight had offered to care for Merlin. Of all his men, Gwaine seemed to have made a connection with the boy, and treated him as a younger brother.

He sighed ain relief as Gwaine approached, clutching the twitching boy in his arms, his face grave. He gave him a slow nod and handed the frail, too light figure to the King, so he could mount his steed. Once Gwaine was seated comfortably in the saddle, he leant over to help Arthur place Merlin before him. He was semi-conscious – his eyes flicking restlessly towards the king.

'Wh-where we going?' He slurred, gripping the horses mane.

The young king placed a gloved hand upon Merlin's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

'We're going to get you some help. You're quite ill,'

The warlock's lips quirked into a small smile. 'Over worked and underpaid my liege,' he whispered.

Arthur scoffed. 'But not ill enough, it seems, to make jokes,' he replied ruffling his dark mop.

Merlin winced as the gesture made his headache worse.

Arthur looked up towards Gwaine. 'Make sure you keep an eye on him Gwaine, I want you behind me at all times and keep me updated. I want to know when his condition begins to worsen,'

The knight replied with a stiff nod, not in the mood for his usual surly and sarcastic retorts.

Arthur mounted his horse and clicked his tongue, urging the beast towards the citadel gates. The knights followed suit, matching the King's gait.

Below him, Merlin cried out, the jolting speed aggravating his ailment, and with one hand still clutching the reins, he gripped the boy under the armpit and pulled him to his chest.

'I'm sorry dear boy, we will be there soon,' he murmured to his young friend, as the party headed towards the Valley of the Fallen Kings, the sunset chasing close behind...

* * *

They had been riding for hours, before finally exhaustion forced the group to stop for a reprieve. Arthur dismounted and hastened towards Gwaine's horse, where he and Percival were pulling Merlin gently from the saddle.

Merlin gasped, his eyes flew open. 'Put me down!' he screamed, pain lancing through his body as the Knights quickened their pace.

Arthur sat with his back against a tree, motioning for the Knights lay Merlin with him.

Percival slowly lowered the boy so that his head rested upon the Kings lap.

'Hello Merlin,' he murmured softly as the boy peered at him with wide, pain filled eyes.

' 'Lo,' he murmured in reply, the sound barely audible through his dry lips.

'How are you feeling?' He asked, trying to keep the boy conscious.

'Prob'ly slightly worse than hung-over,' Merlin replied humourlessly

Arthur chuckled, but the smile quickly sobered as the boys blue orbs slid out of focus. For a panicked moment, he thought the boy was dead, and he could have been for the stillness of his body.

'Merlin?' he asked his voice hitching as he shook his friend.

The boy remained unresponsive, his eyes glassy – but the uneven rise and fall of his chest assured the King he was still alive.

'Gwaine? Percival? There's something wrong!' He called, his fear rising.

The two Knights dropped what they were doing and rushed over.

'What is it?' Percival asked, crouching beside the pair.

Before Arthur could answer, Merlin's eyes rolled back, only showing white, and he began to thrash wildly. His jaw clenched and his head jerked back, his neck muscles as taut as a drawn bow.

'Merlin!' Arthur cried reaching out to hold him.

'No Arthur, don't touch him,' Gwaine murmured quietly, watching as his back arched, his torso rising. His head was jerking painfully into the Kings thigh, but he did not care. The thrashing increased violently and there was a gurgling deep in his throat.

Arthur's eyes met Gwaine's imploringly. 'What's happening, Gwaine?'

'Gaius warned me he may have seizures, but I never imagined them to reach this severity,' Gwaine replied as Merlin began to gag. Arthur's eyes widened as a white froth, with smeared with red, splattered from his lips and slid from his chin.

Tears pricked at Arthur's eyes. 'He sounds like he's choking,' Arthur croaked.

'He is sire.' Gwaine said, reaching forward. 'You have to move him now, I know I told you not to touch him, but we need to ensure his airway's a clear. I will show you,'

The tall knight gripped the still rigid boy by the shoulders and pulling slowly from Arthur's legs. Laying in the dirt, Merlin lay taut, his body curved backwards into a 'C'.

'Hold his head please, sire, ' Gwaine instructed. 'I need to ensure he does not bite or choke on his tongue.'

Arthur clutched the boys head between two hands as the Knight gripped the boy's tight jaw. With some difficulty, he pried his foaming mouth open and was subsequently splattered with blood and froth.

'Either he has already bit his tongue...'

He needn't say more, for Arthur understood what he was saying.

With practiced ease, Gwaine placed two fingers into the boy's mouth, searching for any blockages. Vomit rested at the back for Merlin's throat, so the knight rubbed his neck, urging the sick to come forth and relieve his friends torment.

Merlin's eyes flickered and he blinked, his body going limp. Utterly exhausted, he barely retched, before he was vomited once more.

Once he stopped, his eyes widened upon feeling wetness in his trousers and he looked away, embarrassed.

Arthur peered at Percival, his mouth a grim line. 'During a seizure,' the knight whispered so that he wasn't heard. 'The patient can oftentimes lose control of their bodily functions. I believe this is what happened to Merlin,'

Arthur nodded. He understood why the boy shied away.

'Merlin?' Arthur said softly, encouraging the boy to look at him. Merlin's body wracked with silent sobs. Without hesitating, Arthur pulled the boy into a rough embrace, his chin resting on his shoulder as he cried.

The boy gripped the back of his tunic, tears dampening the soft material, but Arthur did not care. He no longer held back his tears. He was tired, afraid, and his friend required comfort. The Knights watched on feeling their own emotions rising. To them, Merlin wasn't just a mere servant of the King. He was a friend – like a brother, and they knew Arthur felt the same.

So they watched, as the King, comforting his friend; cried with him.

* * *

**I hope this was satisfying! Thanks again to the reviewers! There will be more action soon, I promise – but I need protective Gwaine and Arthur first! **


	4. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: **

Firstly, I would like to apologise for the amount of errors in my last chapter. Usually I check over my doco thoroughly before posting, but hey – we all get lazy! Secondly, just so you are aware, the plant that has poisoned Merlin, _Nux Vomica, _is a **real** plant and the symptoms are legitimate, and lastly – I just finished watching the final episode of Merlin EVER, and I found myself sobbing! Colin and Bradley were so spectacularly moving; I thought my heart was going to break!

It is highly likely that this will fall on deaf ears, but you never know! Colin, Bradley – Congrats on the utterly beautiful and breathtaking performance! You each get a cyber cookie :D

DISCLAIMER:

**I do not own Merlin. If I did, Arthur & Gwaine would be alive, and I would be in France, shooting Series 6. **

_**Warnings**_

_Contains gratuitous violence in the form of whump…_

_Warnings especially for graphic torture._

* * *

**Dréor Hagorún – The Blood Spell**

**CHAPTER THREE**

Slowly, Merlin's sobs began to subside. He felt weary and pained – why were his pants wet?

_That's right, I pissed myself_, the boy thought grimly, his fists still bunching the finery that adorned the King.

Oh gods!

The fragile boy scrambled away from his fair haired master and leant against a tree, his trembling knees drawn against his chest.

'Merlin –' Arthur began, bewildered at his friend's rapid withdrawal.

'I'm sorry, Arthur,' he muttered, his blue orbs distant and dazed.

The king sighed. 'Merlin, don't apologise – you're ill,' He reached his hand out to give the young man and comforting touch, not missing the flinch.

Arthur's heart wrenched at the sight of the haggard boy. Never had Merlin looked so frail and dejected.

The King stood, his eyes deep with worry, and motioned for Gwaine to come over.

'He needs to be cleaned up Gwaine, but he won't let me touch him. I think he is ashamed of losing control, and I don't want to make it worse. I have some spare trousers that he can have. Use cool water Gwaine, his fever is burning high. It will relieve him.'

The Knight nodded, his tawny eyes lacking the joviality they usually held.

He crouched down before his friend and gave him an encouraging smile.

'How are you feeling mate?' he asked, gently removing the boy's tunic.

''M hot,' he mumbled, recoiling as Gwaine began to remove his soiled trousers. The knight raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. 'There is no need to be ashamed, Merlin,' he said, trying to calm the boy as his breaths hitched in his chest. 'I am just trying to help you,'

'I – I know...I'm just...' he swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling more tired than he ever had in his life.

'I know you're embarrassed mate, but Arthur does not think any less of you. He didn't want to touch you for fear of causing you more panic,'

Merlin nodded, relaxing slowly, allowing the knight, his friend – to continue undressing him. Gwaine had never seen the boy naked before – he took so much care in covering up, always bathing alone on a hunt, and the Knight could see why. He was just so _thin_. Gwaine could see his ribs beneath pale, milky skin and his hips jutted out like the bones of a baby bird. Biting back his words, the Knight spilled cool water from his canteen onto a rag and began to wipe the sweat and dirt from his body, soothing his cries of pain as he worked gently.

Arthur had rejoined them quietly and clutching his warmest blanket, sat next to his loyal and most trusted friend. 'It's ok Merlin...' he soothed, watching the tips of his ears grow pink from embarrassment.

'I've washed your trousers; they're drying by the fire now. You will be able to wear them soon enough,' the king explained, draping the blanket around Merlin's narrow shoulders.

The young Warlock looked up at the king, his eyes wide. 'Arthur, you're the King! You shouldn't be washing the piss of your servant's clothes!' he cried, his voice cracking as he began to panic once more.

Arthur gripped his shoulders and turned him slowly to face him. The King's deep blue eyes held no anger or resentment. They were soft and compassionate – a rarity in the boy who kept his emotions so guarded a lot of the time.

'Merlin, please don't assume that I couldn't care less...I know I am often distant and appear callous, but that is only because you are the _worst _manservant in the history of Camelot!'

Merlin looked away, his face pinched – but Arthur forced him to meet his gaze once more.

'That being so – you are also my most loyal and trusted friend. I think I could even go as far as calling you a _brother. _And besides which – I am also the King, so I can wash whose ever pants I want, _Mer_lin,'

The Warlock could not believe his ears, but the words felt true. He offered his friend a small smile. It was a ghost of smile; nowhere near its usual brilliance...but Arthur took it and grinned in return, ruffling his raven mop gently.

'Get some rest Merlin. I want you to eat something before we get moving again. We ride in an hour.'

* * *

Merlin really _did_ try to eat, but as the campfire cooked morsels slid down his throat, his already roiling stomach recoiled, rejected the food and for the umpteenth time that day, he was on his knees, clutching his aching abdomen and expelling the contents of his stomach upon the forest floor.

Taking a harsh breath once the worst of the nausea had passed, Merlin wiped the bile from his mouth and sighed. The pain was reaching unbearable levels and he just wanted to sleep. He swayed in exhaustion and started to fall back, his eyes drooping and a pair of strong arms gripped him under his armpits.

His consciousness was waning fast, and so was his life. Arthur could feel laboured breaths through his back and he swore. The group had been idle for far too long. It was time to move.

With the help of his Knights, Arthur lifted the fading boy onto his horse, deciding Merlin was better off where he could keep a constant vigil on his friend.

When the secret magician was in place, draped over the neck of the horse, The King mounted swiftly and pulled the boy almost protectively against his chest.

It was past midnight, and the forest was dark – but the Knights surrounded him, each holding a flaming torch whilst gripping their reins one handed.

Arthur clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and urged his steed forward with a firm squeeze of his boots.

They were off again.

They rode hard, the Knights keeping well balanced as they cantered through the dark night, their blazing torches streaming behind them like the breath of a dragon.

Arthur was worried. Merlin had not stirred since they departed. Not an inch – but in mere seconds, as the King contemplated his concern for the frail man, Merlin's head jerked backward sharply, bashing Arthurs sternum.

The regent started. The contact had only winded him slightly, but his alarm grew Merlin became taut once more, his muscles trembling.

'STOP!' Arthur cried, reining in his steed until it slowed to a halt.

Merlin was convulsing again, his limbs jerking spasmodically as the knights gathered around the seizing boy, their eyes worried,

He arched back, his neck straining against Arthurs chest, and all the King could do was watch desolately, as the pink foam sputtered from the boy's blue-tinged lips.

Somehow, although Arthur could have never fathomed how at that point, this was far worse than before. Pained grunts escaped from deep in Merlins throat, and his thighs clenched dangerously tight around the horses neck.

They waited silently for several minutes and Arthur absentmindedly stroked the damp raven locks that stuck to his forehead.

It was fifteen minutes before the spasms began to subside, and Merlin's head lolled once again, this time remaining in deep unconsciousness.

'I don't know how much longer he can suffer like this. He's so hot,' Percival mumbled, touching a tender hand to the boy's forehead. 'We must make haste, Arthur – he is fading,'

With a heavy heart, Arthur sighed. He was not going to lose his friend, but they had time yet.

They had to keep going.

With a speed that would have impressed even the most skilled rider, they made it to the entrance of the Valley a little over two hours later. In that time, Merlin's seizures continued with alarming regularity, each steadily worse than the last.

And they stopped each time, waiting with bated breath until the tremors abated before they moved on.

'We still have a day and a half. We need to rest. Gwaine, help me get him down. He needs to be comfortable.'

Gwaine nodded as Arthur slid from the saddle, his legs stiff.

Merlin moaned painfully as the men, pulled him gently from the steed. His eyes flickered rapidly beneath his pale lids as they set him down. That was when he stirred. He blinked blearily, drinking in his surroundings.

'Merlin, welcome back,' Gwaine murmured, placing his pack beneath his head for comfort.

'G-Gwaine...I need...where's Ar-tur?' He groaned weakly.

'I'm here mate,' he replied, leaning over his friend. Merlin gripped the King's wrist tightly.

'I don't k-know how much l-longer I'll be me...' he began, the words hurting.

'Shh Merlin, save your strength,' Arthur said, stroking his knuckles gently.

He shook his head stubbornly. 'No, Arthur...I'm dying...do you think that M-Morgana doesn't have an ulterior motive? I have to tell you now...I don't want to go to grave knowing I hid my biggest secret from you...'

Arthur's stomach clenched his panic rising. What kind of secret was it that Merlin feared to tell him?

'You can tell me when you're all better, ' the King assured, sighing as the boy shook his head.

'N-no...It has to be now...Arthur...' tears began to leak from his tired eyes as they met his. 'I have magic.'

* * *

Arthur rocked backwards on his heels as the boy confessed. The King knew he should be angry, or at least a little bit annoyed, and by the look on Merlin's face, he did too.

He regarded the sick boy, his head tilted to the side.

_Magic is evil_...his subconscious muttered, knitting his brow together in a frown, but a firmer voice responded: _how can sweet, loyal, faithful Merlin be __**evil**__ ever?_

'A-Arthur?' He stammered, swallowing convulsively, fear and panic hitching his breaths.

'Why did you never tell me?' The King asked with a gentleness that shocked Merlin.

'I – I...If you r-recall, _sire_, I think you'll find I _did _tell you. But you didn't believe me. Your f-father did...'

The young regent cast his mind back to when they had only known each other for several months, when Guinevere had been accused of sorcery and Merlin barged into the Throne Room, proclaiming his guilt. Arthur shot the possibility down quickly. There was no way that bumbling idiot of a manservant had magic!

'So, you're a Sorcerer?' he asked.

Merlin shook his head rapidly. 'No, no – Sorcerers choose to learn magic. I was born with it...I am a _Warlock. _I wanted to tell you, so many times Arthur...I have only ever used it to protect you and Camelot, I swear!'

His breaths were coming in great whooping gasps now, the panic of finally revealing his secret, threatening to take over.

'Calm down, Merlin..._please. _I...I am not angry. I know I should be furious right now, but I look at you –' The King paused. 'It just hurts that you couldn't trust me enough to tell me,'

Merlin averted his gaze to look at the ground ashamedly.

'I was scared, Arthur and rightly so – even if you accepted me for who I was straight away, you would be lying to your father, and _that_ is treason...Prince or no. I didn't want to put you in that position and I didn't want to die either...'

Seeing the King's acceptance, the Knights relaxed visibly, coming over slowly to offer the Warlock water.

'You _devious_ little pup,' Gwaine said with a grin, ruffling his young friend's hair. Merlin began to smile, but it froze, contorting to a look of great fear.

'Run, now,' he said firmly. 'RUN!'

Arthur went to pick him up, but jumped back when he looked at Merlin's eyes.

The gold flickered intermittently, and the air around them crackled and snapped.

'M-Merlin?' Arthur stammered, touching him gently.

The Warlock screamed, and he arched again, throwing out pulses of magic that had his friends on their backs.

His throat clenched painfully, and air could not enter to fill his lungs. As Merlin trembled, his head twitched, hitting the side of his head on a gnarled, exposed tree root, time and time again. Blood poured from the gash and his eyes rolled back, showing only white.

The King jumped to his feet and raced to his friend, because magic or no, the boy was dying and needed to be saved. Only when Merlin had recovered _completely_ would he be demanding any kind of explanation.

'C'mon _idiot,' _ Arthur urged through clenched teeth, supporting Merlin's neck and holding his head as far away from the root as he could possibly get.

That's when Arthur noticed blue lips opening and closing, eyes holding such desperation and fear that the King thought his heart would break. Merlin couldn't _breathe_.

'Merlin – come on you dolt, you need _air_!' Arthur cried – he could see his throat pulsing, desperate and hungry for oxygen.

Ignoring protocol – namely royals saving the lives of their servants, Arthur pinched the boy's nose and sealed his lips around Merlin's breathing his own air into him.

The Warlock's eyes were wide with shock, but he was getting air.

As Merlin took a shuddering breath, finally able to breathe again – The king stepped back, his cheeks reddening.

Merlin just stared at his friend for a while, a look of utter bafflement upon his features, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he was unconscious once more.

* * *

**Ok – that was a late one, so sorry guys! The story will move forward in the next chapter, I promise!**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

Thank you guys for all your support! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!

DISCLAIMER:

**Not mine...Never was, and never will be. But my Birthday is coming up, if the BBC where so inclined to get me a present?**

_**Warnings**_

_Contains gratuitous violence in the form of whump…_

_Warnings especially for graphic torture._

* * *

**Dréor Hagorún – The Blood Spell**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Merlin was fading, and fast...

Arthur clung to his friend with a fierce possessiveness that both frightened and impressed his Knights. For more than twenty minutes, he refused to let the young man go, holding his frail body to his chest and rocking backwards and forwards, hot tears spilling from his cerulean eyes.

'Aww...isn't this a pretty picture,' came a scathing female voice from beyond the trees. Arthur's head jerked up suddenly, his eyes red from crying. He recognised that voice anywhere.

'_Morgana_,' he growled, his voice holding much malice. 'Show yourself,'

The sorceress stepped out from her shadowy hiding spot, her eyes hard. She pouted.

'Is that anyway to greet your _sister_?' she asked, approaching the men slowly, ignoring their hastily drawn swords.

'He's dying – fix him,' Arthur commanded, still afraid to release the boy.

Morgana laughed coldly, her emerald eyes flashing with rage. 'So you chose to accept this serving boy for having magic and yet, you _condemn _your own blood! I should leave now and let him perish – a punishment for your crimes,' she hissed.

'Merlin has never tried to kill me or my father – nor has he ever sought to usurp the throne and destroy Camelot. I wish it was he that had been born as my blood, not _you,' _the King snapped, his fingers subconsciously stroking Merlin's hair.

Morgana flinched at the words, but covered the moment of hurt with a sneer. 'You should have killed him when he asked you to, _brother dear_...his suffering is far from over,'

Arthur paled, his eyes widening. 'You said you would heal him of this poison!' he cried, gripping Merlin tighter as he trembled.

'Yes, I did, didn't I? And I shall – but only as it is necessary for the Ritual.' She replied, knocking the King away with a flick of her wrist.

Merlin crumpled as the royal flew into the dirt, but struggled weakly as Morgana grasped him by his throat.

'_How does it feel to be poisoned by one you thought was a __**friend?**__'_ She whispered, as his sluggish gaze met hers.

'I-I'm sorry...I had no _choice_,' he murmured in reply.

The witch ignored his apology and pulled a lump of charcoal from the folds of her cloak.

Watching from his spot in the dirt – Arthur tried to move. He wanted to scamper over and run the witch through with his sword, but he was frozen to the spot, helpless to do anything.

'Swallow it,' she growled, pushing the lump of black into Merlins mouth. The boy nearly choked, but Morgana rubbed his exposed throat with a gentle touch and he swallowed reflexively, grimacing as it tore his oesophagus.

'What did you just give him, bitch?' Gwaine cried, trying to step forward, but failing as Arthur had.

'Calm yourself, Sir Knight...the charcoal will absorb the poison...He will not die before it is needed.'

Arthur's head jerked up, panic bubbling to the surface. He had remembered her mentioning some kind of Ritual before, but had been so caught up in protecting Merlin, he hardly listened.

'What are you talking about?' The King demanded.

'I speak of Dréor Hagorún. It is a transfer of power that can only be completed with the spilling of the victim's blood. _Emrys _will give us his power – when the time comes he will be _begging_ us to take it!'

Arthur struggled, his anger rising over the panic. 'I _will_ kill you,' he cried, spittle flying from clenched teeth.

'Oh shut up, you silly boy,' she chuckled, and with a golden flash, Arthur knew no more.

***~*M*~***

As Merlin floated to the surface of consciousness, his only wish was to sink back into the oblivion that had claimed him many days ago. His whole body was aflame with boiling agony – his muscles were tight, his head pounded like a war drum and his throat was so mercilessly dry, it felt like he had swallowed glass.

His lids fluttered gently and slowly his eyes opened, taking in the scene around him with much confusion. Last he remembered, he was in the forest, clutched tightly to Arthur's broad chest – using his steady heartbeat as a guide to calm his own. Now he was surrounded by cold, grey stone – rounded walls that did not break.

Trapped.

Merlin gasped, his heart thudding weakly as he reached out to touch the walls of his prison, hoping it was merely an illusion.

'Merlin?' Arthur's gentle voice floated to him within the gloom, unadulterated fear lacing his words as he shuffled closer. 'You're awake...'

The Kings wide, cerulean eyes entered Merlin's half lidded vision, and a warm, calloused hand gripped his shoulder.

The pair just stared at each other for several moments, both revealing emotions that were usually so guarded and secret – pain, fear, panic, _concern_.

Surprisingly, Arthur was the first to come undone. He gripped the young Warlock and pulled him close, his arms wrapped around Merlin's too-thin frame as he sobbed openly onto the boys shoulder. He was tired, sore, hungry and his nerves were frayed after Merlin's near death...he had come too close that time.

Merlin leant into the brotherly embrace, rubbing small circles upon the King's back as he hiccoughed into his neck, which was damp and hot from his friend's tears.

'I almost lost you...' he breathed shakily, moving away, dragging his sleeve underneath his nose in a very _un-_royal fashion.

The warlock didn't have the energy to speak, or even smile – his eyes were becoming heavy again.

His stomach roiled fiercely as he tried to stand, his legs weak from disuse – and with a stumble, he grabbed Arthur's arm for support, while his other hand clutched at his stomach.

With a painful retch, he was vomiting again – black and red. Blood and charcoal. And it didn't stop. Not for five minutes. Not for ten.

He vaguely remembered falling to his knees as his gut continued to revolt. Merlin didn't even notice the waves of sick magic that pulsed from his being, preventing Arthur from coming to his aid.

Twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes of non-stop spewing. Days of pain, seizures, _incontinence_ – more pain than any one man should ever experience in a lifetime, packed into three days.

Merlin was beyond pissed. He was beyond furious. Soft spoken, kind, innocent, adorable Merlin was shaking with unbridled rage. Ignoring the fierce pain, he stood tall – his eyes swirling gold as they flickered up to the bars that sealed them within their prison.

Arthur took a step back, feeling the magic crackle like lightning across his skin. It didn't hurt; he knew Merlin wouldn't hurt him, ever. But he wasn't so sure about his sister...

'MORGANA!' Merlin roared, his voice laced with a deep power so ancient and commanding that Arthur wanted to bow at his feet and revere him as a God until the world was old and the sun died out.

Hot blue streaks of light raced up the curved walls of the well and danced upon the steel that enclosed them, causing them to shudder. 'COWARD!'

A swirl of grey light filled the enclosed space and in seconds Merlin found himself pinned to the wall, a delicate hand at his throat.

Furious green eyes met raging cobalt and for several moments they merely stared at each other. Arthur found himself frozen once more as he watched the scene unfold.

'Emrys...you have commanded my fears for far too long. I will not allow you to summon me in such a manner,' Morgana hissed with vehemence.

Merlin did not flinch at the venomous tone; he merely stared into moss green, anger still running hot through his veins.

'You are a traitor, Morgana...and a murderer,' he said softly allowing fury to lace his words.

Her eyes narrowed. 'Said the spider to the fly,' she replied coldly, tightening her grip. 'You started it,'

The dark haired youth refused to fear the woman who could kill him with one word – instead, he continued to gaze into the once compassionate green eyes of Morgana, matching their intensity and coldness.

'You sound like a petulant child, Morgana. You always did, if you never got your way. Don't forget, _my lady_ that you walked out on us and into the arms of the enemy before I even touched that poison. You walked out on your Father; on your brother...you walked away, and that is when you died in my eyes,'

At these words, Morgana did flinch – a brief look of hurt entering her gaze before it was gone and replaced once more with a sneer. Moving her hand from his throat, she smiled coldly and placed it over his heart while her eyes flashed gold.

_'Gesweorc, hine__beclyppe!' _she hissed, watching the sweat bead at his brow.

Merlin could feel a cold grip upon his heart, threatening to consume his entire soul with agony – but he refused to waver. He kept his face neutral, despite the pain, and continued to glare pointedly at the woman who was trying to kill him. Through his concentration, he could hear Arthur screaming his name – begging Morgana to stop, but Merlin knew she would not listen.

The blood was pounding in his ears now, but he held his chin high, determined not to flinch as the pain reached new levels of intensity.

_' __Lig-fyr onbærne swithe!' _She cried, with growing frustration at the lack of reaction.

A barely audible groan slipped through Merlin's parted lips but he kept the defiant gaze, silently praying for her to get bored and _leave him alone_.

'Are you not going to retaliate, Merlin?' she hissed, pulling a short dagger from her bodice and placing the cold steel against his lip.

'You are not worth the drain of my power...not yet, anyway.' He returned with a humourless smile, trying not to pant from the exertion of pushing his pain away.

'Very well, just remember, Merlin...your magic will be much harder to control when you're _bleeding to death.'_

Morgana ground out the last three words with hate as she drove the dagger into Merlin's gut.

Eyes wide, Merlin looked at her imploringly as her evil smile widened. 'Rest while you can Merlin, for when I come back, you will be wishing I had killed you now.'

And with a flurry of grey and black smoke – she was gone.

Free from the sorceress's spell, Arthur rushed forward, catching Merlin as he began to crumple. Ignoring the cry of pain his touch elicited from the young man, the King pressed down on the wound to slow the blood.

'Idiot,' he murmured, brushing the raven locks from Merlin's brow as he rested against his chest. 'You are going to bloody _kill_ me one of these days, you know that Merlin?' Arthur said with a sigh, peering into pained cobalt.

'Never kill...only save...' he mumbled, his lids fluttering.

'I know that, you buffoon...I know you would save me. But it would kill me if you gave your life doing so, and you know it!' Arthur cried in exasperation.

A small smile flickered across Merlin's lips. 'I know, I just wanted to hear it from you,' he teased.

The young king pressed his lips upon Merlin's brow – a gesture of his care and willingness to comfort him.

'Rest now, brother...I love you,' Arthur murmured, tears spilling over once more.

Merlin smiled. 'And I, you,' he replied, before succumbing once more to darkness...

* * *

**It took ages – but there! Oh and I stick by my previous 'Only Bromance' statement. That 'declaration of love' was merely plutonic, but if you feel slashy – than by all means, read it as such. But it was definitely the 6****th**** century equivalent to 'I love ya, bro!' The boys seem OOC, I know, but I honestly think that it would come to that...remember Arthur's last words? 'I want you...to always be you...' **

**Anyway – It's my birthday next week, and I would like some review presents! **


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